And she who is born,
she who sings and cries,
she who begins the passage, her hair
sprouting out,
her gums budding for her first spring on earth,
the mist still clinging about
her face, puts
her hand
into her father's mouth, to take hold of
his song.
—Galway Kinnell The Book of Nightmares

Friday, August 10, 2012

Begifted

Well The Cuteness has begun accepting offerings. This fan was given to her, along with a pretty high-quality umbrella, by a stranger on the subway. When I demurred (we already have an umbrella) the woman insisted in a Russian-inflected accent: No. You take. It is raining, and she knows everything.